I Won't Forget
by Ihsan997
Summary: During the first few weeks of his assignment to a Horde outpost on Draenor, an ex-con tries to adjust to life on the outside. Khujand's reintroduction to society is delayed by a foolish young girl who is in way over her head as he struggles to fulfill the role of unwilling surrogate father. Rated M for gore, adult themes and character death.
1. A Night on the Town

The wind blew slightly through eastern Frostfire Ridge that evening, picking up particles of snow and dust as it moved. Surreal white wisps flowed over the hills, slowly shifting the heavy cover like dunes in a desert of sand. It wasn't particularly cold that night by the standards of the local Frostwolf clan, though for adventurers from Azeroth the night air nipped at exposed fingers and noses.

Two large cloaked figures made their way down a well-beaten path over the rolling hills in the far east. They were wrapped in heavy furs from head to toe, obviously not locals. They were both carrying opposite ends of a rather thick piece of lumber, moving slowly and carefully as they sought stable footing within the ankle-high blanket of snow. Shining under the moonlight were the compound ropes tied around the lumber, weaved from various different types of material. A plump blue boar was hanging by its legs underneath the lumber. It's massive body swayed back and forth as the two travelers marched, though the ropes held tight. Their faces were both wrapped to protect their lungs and sinuses from the bitingly cold air. Not a sound was heard aside from their boots shifting across the snow.

The boar's corpse left a trail of dark red blood on the pure white ice behind them. In theory, this could attract various predators and scavengers to contest the kill. There was no worry tonight, though. The two travelers were fortunate enough to have happened upon a stray boar which had wandered far too close to the settlement; any other animal looking to steal a kill would have had to contend with the other settlement-dwellers as well. Keeping a steady pace, the two wrapped, hooded figures neared the sentry post which marked the entrance of the bustling, densely populated frontier town which served as the temporary home for so many serving in the campaign against the Iron Horde. They nodded as a group of three sentries waved them through, slowing down a bit as they ascended a steep incline which lead to the busy, uneven spaces between the makeshift buildings.

The sun had set just over an hour ago and many of the settlement's denizens were finally off duty from their daily toil. The conveniently flat, spacious ledge originally served only as a flight path for Horde soldiers during the Battle of Thunder Pass. As reinforcements were ordered to ward off attacks from the Iron Siege Works, life was breathed into the fledgling settlement. Neither the primary Horde government on Azeroth nor the temporary command center on Draenor were prepared to provide the amount of services necessary for stationing troops in such a forlorn place, and the answer - pushed mainly by goblin cartel traders - was the liberal issuance of building contracts and grant money to whoever was willing to set up shop. Civilians quickly outnumbered the actual soldiers, and the town's population swelled so quickly that Horde officials had not yet even decided on an official name for the settlement. "Thunder Pass" was popular though technically incorrect as the actual Thunder Pass was a literal mountain pass. Regardless, the name was far more common than the suggested "Thunder Watch," "Mountain Watch" or "Thunder Mountain." Whatever one called it, the town was certainly a paradise compared to many of the other outposts dotting Frostfire's harsh landscape. About half a dozen buildings even had running water and toilets with cisterns.

The two hooded figures maneuvered between the colorful characters filling the streets. Everyone was happy to move out of the way and make things easy for the load-bearers, though few seemed to really be paying attention. Reaching a narrow alleyway, they turned sideways and strained while grasping the ends of the piece of lumber with both hands each. There was a space behind the two buildings large enough for the smaller figure out front to continue walking straight out until his larger companion was able to push himself entirely out of the alleyway. Directly opposite both buildings was a sheer, impossible straight wall of rock. The town was wedged right up against the mountains, protecting it on two sides. The larger figure walked at an angle to his stationary friend's right-hand side, pivoting their load parallel with the mountains on the right and the buildings on the left. They picked up the pace a bit, trotting four narrow alleyways down to a large, two-storey building with a large back door hanging open.

A feminine orc figure stood similarly wrapped in furs, motioning the two load bearers inside. They carried the piece of lumber and the blue boar in and she slid the double doors closed behind them.

Pulling off her head wrapping, she said: "You two really outdid yourselves this time. The rest of the boys will be happy to have some more work."

"And in record time," huffed the smaller figure as he removed his own head wrapping. The orc's long black hair fell over his shoulders as he uncovered his head. Even when wrapped up head-to-toe, he didn't enjoy tying his hair back in a knot or ponytail. A strand or two came out as he tucked his headwrap into his thick leather belt. "This beast practically fell into our laps the first quarter of an hour we were out there."

The female, her hair grey from age though her features no less beautiful by the standards of her people, hurried over to a countertop framed by a low ceiling. From the large sliding doors at the back of the building, an observer could see straight over the countertop across to the far wall on the opposite side of the building. The three were in a large room empty except for the cutlery in a bucket and the stains of animal blood on the floor. The floors and walls were all made of wooden planks, the carpentry work surprisingly professional given how quickly the building had been erected. She banged her fist excitedly on the countertop. "Guys! We got work!"

A second, smaller door was next to the countertop which formed a sort of interior window. A third door with the word "kitchen" inscribed on it was situated on the right-hand side when entering from the sliding back doors. There was shuffling in the next room as three distinct pairs of footsteps were heard. The larger one of the hooded figures had finally removed his own headwrap and was pulling the bucket of cutlery over near the boar carcass. His fiery red mane had been tied back unlike his friend's black hair. The troll was slouching though his head was still near the ceiling. His above average height was still less noticeable than the fact that both of his tusks were clipped short, an extremely rare sight among his kind.

His orcish friend had already begun untying the boars feet as the smaller door next to the countertop burst open and two orc peons along with an undersized tauren walked in. They thanked the three fur-wrapped figures and lowered themselves to the floor, immediately getting to work skinning and preparing the animal. Once they were huddled around on the floor, the older woman led her two companions through the same door and into the lounge area of what had become a respected inn and restaurant. The lounge was rectangular except for the corner which was a straight walk from the door they had entered, which was diagonally cut to allow for a set of double doors forming the entrance. A set of four tables with four chairs each were organized geometrically in the center of the lounge. Were one of the peons to stick his head over the countertop and look to his right, he would see the staircase leading up, the rubbish bin in the corner and the door to the broom closet under the stairs.

"This is a big one, Ushka," the male remarked to the female. "We should be able to make the meat on this one last for, like, a week at least."

Her reply was quick. "It all depends on the customers," she said with a wry smile. "Business is difficult to predict what with all the troop rotations and random arrivals at the flight path."

"Toruk!" A distinct Darkspear accent was heard from the staircase as a blue-haired troll woman bounced down the stairs. "Whadya find tonight, mon? You catch us a rylak or somethin special like dat?"

The orc blushed slightly at the sight of her. Her hair was styled into a mohawk similar to the large male's, though with some braids spilling down over her back as well. She was wrapped up in much softer looking, stylishly cut furs along with boots custom made for the two large toes on each foot. She only stopped on the stairs for a moment to tug at one of her braids coyly before descending and throwing her arms around him as though noone else was there.

"Oh, nothing so unique this time but it was definitely a good catch." The orc's rugged, shaven face was all that was visible above the high neck of his upper garment. The two were relatively young and smirked at each other the way two teenagers in love for the first time would.

Their two older companions stood awkwardly for a moment until Ushka broke the silence. "I think the boys in the back can handle it from here. And it seems you're already dressed, Javilla," she said looking at the blue-haired female. "Why don't you give Toruk a few minutes to freshen up and you two lovebirds can go hit the tavern. No reason for you to spend your evening in our boring old place here."

Javilla pouted playfully. "Ushka, I wish ya would be commin out wit us sometimes, yer schedule be so random dat it seems ya never get out enough."

"Don't worry about little old me, seeing our place here do good business is most of what I need. You kids go have fun, get out of here. And if you see Jiranta tell her to get back here, it's too late for her to be out."

"Ushka, we won't worry about you, and you don't worry about Jiranta! We'll keep an eye out for her," Toruk said as he led Javilla up the stairs by the hand. "Our new family here takes care of its own!"

Ushka watched them until they were out of view and heard their footsteps followed by the door to their room opening and shutting. The humble little inn was a great project she had overseen from beginning to end, but damned if the sounds from upstairs didn't carry so well. She looked around for a moment realizing she was alone. That big lunk had somehow disappeared to his room again without saying anything.

* * *

Khujand sat before a mirror as he untied his hair and brushed it up a bit. He pulled out a wooden bowl of hair cream, looking at it for a moment before putting it back on his dresser. He didn't plan on going anywhere that night and even if he did, there was no occasion to prepare for. He sat back on his stool and took a look around his room for a moment. The only keys were with him or Ushka, but his years on the inside had made him paranoid about theft. The wall with the door was thin and he could hear every footstep in the hallways outside. His bed was directly opposite the door, still a mess as he had left it. The window to the left of the bed was unopened and the snow on the windowsill indicated that noone had tired to enter. Swiveling to his left again, the dresser and mirror set were in the same exact spot they had been in the afternoon, down to the exact same amount of distance between the back legs of the dresser and the wall. To the left of the dresser was a large chest, still locked with the same key as the door. He couldn't recall if he had already performed a theft-check a minute ago or if he had merely planned to.

He stared into the mirror for a moment, fingering the knubs which had once been long, proud tusks. He was no longer as self-conscious about it and had learned to ignore the comments of troll women he occasionally heard behind his back. Still, he couldn't help but to pause and take a look at the sawed-off tips every time he looked in the mirror. Lingering for just a few seconds, he stood up mechanically and changed into a lighter set of furs. He could feel the hunger growing and there had to be some left over food from the other night.

Downstairs, he ate his meal of snow hare strips, boiled pieces of carrot and some kind of beans in silence. The din of the metal fork against the plate was still audible even with the busy work of preparing the boar he and Toruk had caught in the back room. He wasn't the only one slinking around that night, as he didn't even notice Ushka sitting next to him.

"Khujand!" He suddenly realized he wasn't alone.

"Howya doin, girl," he stated more than asked.

"Stop calling me girl Khujand, for crying out loud I'm almost twice your age," she said exasperatedly.

"Okey dokey, boss." He was about to continue eating before he realized that he might have been rude. Or not. He wasn't sure. His social skills had only recently begun regenerating, and at a far lower rate than he had expected. "How's ya day been?"

Ushka ignored his question entirely. "Khujand, I want you to go to the tavern tonight. Finish eating, put a hat on or something and get out of here."

He stopped chewing and stared at her blankly, replaying her statement in his head. "You...you tellin me I gotta leave? I...what be wrong?"

"No, not LEAVE leave. Don't be so sensitive. You've only been here a week and have been a standup worker and tenant, why would anyone ask you to leave?" She was leaning toward him now, her eyebrows tense with a combination of sympathy and frustration. "I want you to go out tonight and try to...you know, socialize. Like Toruk and Javilla do. You..."

She sighed as she looked off to the side for a moment, thinking hard about something. Khujand was motionless, showing no reaction though he already knew what she was going to say.

"You're a good man, and a welcome new addition to the little town here, and to our inn. So I'm telling you as your friend, not as your employer...I'm concerned about you, and Toruk and Javilla have made some comments. It's obvious that you've spent some time away from people. I understand that. Whatever it was, you need to move on from it and learn to be around people again. You've sat here every night of the week eating your dinner alone and then disappearing upstairs way too early. That can't be healthy. If you want to get used to whatever it is about society you aren't used to, then you need to get out of here sometimes."

Khujand had been listening attentively, though he stared at the tabletop the whole time. He tilted his neck up to look Ushka in the eye and murmered "Thank ya, boss."

Ushka watched him as he put his empty plate along with the silverware on the counter and lurched upstairs. She furrowed her brow the way a concerned and slightly disappointed mother might at her son. Just a minute later, he came back downstairs with a light brown fur cap with low-hanging flaps along the sides to provide cover for those races possessing longer ears.

"And Khujand," Ushka remembered while holding up her index finger. "If you see our new cook Jiranta, please send her back here. She's late."

He closed his eyes for a moment and turned his head to one side, trying to put the name with a face. "Boss, what she look like? I jus passed her once or twice in da hall since she arrived. I ain't sure if I'd recognize her."

Ushka moved her head back with a surprised look. "Really? Well...her hair is pink and she's a bit thin. Just look for the loud-mouthed troll girl who thinks she knows everything, and give her a kick in the behind for me when you send her back."

* * *

Khujand removed a hand from his coat pocket only to briefly adjust his fur cap. The cold stung his ears, though he was more concerned with protecting the back of his neck. The town's pathways were unpaved; it was unnecessary given that the rocky ledge it was built on was so flat. There were small puddles of wet, dirty snow here and there though for the most part the main walkways were well swept. Within a few minutes he was at the doorstep of the tavern, bright lights from the windows illuminating the street out front. The braver bar patrons had wrapped scarves around their necks and faces and were sitting on scattered chairs on the porch of the establishment.

The cacophony of laughter, loud conversations and drunken singing caused him to hesitate before walking in. Alcohol caused him to feel depressed and nauseous and he didn't want to seem like some sort of a prude. A part of him wanted to just turn around and go back to the inn.

You come from a people who are supposed to be outgoing, he thought to himself. You met Toruk within an hour of the Horde frigate from Tanaan Jungle shipwrecking itself here in Frostfire. You can meet other people, too. He repeated it to himself like a mantra in his head, urging himself through the door.

As he entered the town tavern for the first time, he swept across the main room with his gaze. It was crowded, though there were still extra chairs scattered -

"Watch it." A gaggle of goblins nudged by behind him as he realized he was blocking the door with his oversized self.

Stepping sideways away from the door, Khujand kept his back to the wall while surveying the patrons. Every table seemed lively, with members of every Horde race mingling with one another. He distinctly heard several languages other than orcish and was even surprised to see one of the arakkoa birdmen enjoying a game of cards with some of the goblins.

Across from the door to his right, he saw a long, rectangular table with half a dozen people seated around two tauren arm wrestling. There were empty seats and enough people that the group didn't seem to intimate.

*There* was something he could do. Half a decade of hard labor had left Khujand looking more like a bulky forest troll berzerker than the typical lanky jungle troll considered the norm for the Darkspear. He felt giddy at the thought of possibly impressing a group of happy looking strangers.

Just after a jolly looking tauren with dark chocolate brown fur had emerged victorious on the other side of the table - though before anyone had the time to notice the newcomer that had swept over to their table - Khujand was seated at a chair diagonally across from him. Not knowing a socially appropriate way to talk to strangers, he cleared his throat loudly and laid his arm on the table.

The eyes of most of the group glanced curiously at the outsider who was now sitting among them in a seat which had been empty a second ago. Khujand felt a tingle of anxiety as he began to wonder if he was acting weird.

Much to his relief, the jolly tauren's smile got even wider as he bellowed, "A challenger awaits!" The rest of the table laughed along with him, though it didn't feel like the mocking sort of laughter. The loser from the previous round graciously slid his table to the side to allow Khujand to sit face-to-face with the victor.

"I'm Kuma," the victor rolled off his tongue as though the two had known each other for years, "and this is Thunderhorn, Snark, Patina, Simar Anderson, and my sister Zorena. Who, might we ask, are you?"

Khujand hesitated for a split second, not used to saying his own name out loud. He would need to spend a lot more time meeting new people to get over his social anxiety. Slouching forward, he lowered his ears, closed one eye slightly and deadpanned: "I'm da guy dat's gonna win a free drink tonight."

"This guy's funny!"

A loud slap was heard on the back of Khujand's left shoulder, causing him to flinch slightly. Physical contact of the non-violent sort was another thing that would take some getting used to. Turned to his side, he realized that it was the orc man named Snark that had slapped him on the back chummily.

Fortunately, some remnant of his sense of humor was still there as he was able to laugh at himself for a bit along with the group of strangers. "You're quite jumpy tonight, my friend," chuckled Kuma. "I hope that doesn't bode ill for your chances in our mini-tournament here!"

* * *

Half an hour later and Khujand's comfort level had jumped way up. Much to the shock of everyone in the immediate area, he had won the best two out of three arm wrestling matches with Kuma. Everyone rotated, the guys around getting a real kick out of seeing Kuma's sister Zorena arm wrestle Patina, a female orc shaman. The laughter grew even louder when nobody, not even Khujand or Kuma, could defeat the mute Forsaken shadow priest Simar Anderson. Seeing Thunderhorn, himself an aspiring tauren brave and the heaviest person in the group, lose to the bony arms of Anderson was quite a sight.

For the first time in a few days, Khujand's back muscles relaxed as he was able to stop being so stiff. The slouch so natural to jungle trolls reemerged without him even noticing it, and he forgot why he ever felt so awkward before entering the tavern door. Perhaps the slow pace at which his social skills returned to him was simply due to having isolated himself in his own little world.

Just as the arm wrestling was wearing out its welcome, a crash was heard from the opposite end of the tavern. A diverse, mixed race group of patrons had somehow brought tribal drums inside without anyone noticing. Patrons were whistling and cheering as the four brave (and drunk) individuals lined up drums in hand and posed in unison for a moment before sloppily playing a war song. While Khujand was in no position to judge the social propriety of just about any situation involving other people, it seemed odd and humorous in a random sort of way.

The four players were unskilled and totally lacked group coordination, yet the tribal drums spoke to the heart of every orc, troll and tauren in the establishment nonetheless. While it might not have been so familiar to the scattered elves and undead, most of them were nodding their heads or expressing approval in some other manner. The goblins didn't seem to notice.

A few couples in the tavern began dancing wherever they could find space, and two manes of black and blue hair caught the corner of Khujand's eye. Turning to see, he realized that Toruk and Javilla had been sitting two tables over the whole time. Noticing his head turn, the couple seemed surprised to see Khujand at first though they shared a word with each other before Toruk flashed Khujand a thumbs up.

The loud beats of the drum were felt by the crowd through their feet, shooting up into their chests where it could be felt along with the beat of the heart. Its beats were uneven in pace and tone, yet the crowd was still overwhelmingly positive in its response. Khujand breathed deep as he felt the energy of the other living beings around him, experiencing both familiarity and novelty at the same time.

_What were you so anxious about_, the familiar inner voice whispered to him. He let the question be, as it was likely rhetorial, as were most of the questions his subconscious often asked him.

A flash of pink caught the corner of the same eye, and Khujand turned his head again. A younger jungle troll was chatting with Javilla loud enough for him to hear her over the drums. Two more women - an orc and a blood elf - were seated to her other side. Khujand's sudden feeling of comfort disappeared in a hearbeat and his realization of how socially awkward he really was rushed back onto him when he realized that Javilla was pointing directly at him while conversing with Jiranta.

_Alright, that's a little bit much for your first night back among the living_, said the voice a bit louder. Maybe they're just talking about some weird guy that stays at the same inn. Talking...and remaining seated over there

His anxiety continued rising as Toruk took Javilla by the hand to an open space with two other couples dancing while two blood elf paladins who looked like twins began chatting up their fellow blood elf and the third troll seated against the bar. Jiranata was left on her own. His paranoia and focus on worst-case scenarios set in. Khujand gulped in his throat as he hoped someone else would ask Jiranta her astrological sign or whatever it was the young bar crowd was into these days. Anything to help him forget that the two young women had just been speaking about and pointing at him. Much to his dismay, Jiranta looked him right in the eye, chugged an impossibly tall mug of lager before setting it behind her on the bar and beckoning him over with her finger, a villainous grin on her face.

As much as he really didn't want to dance with a stranger in front of other strangers after having not danced in six years, he also didn't want to embarrass the drunk woman who had quite obviously made a pass at him in clear view of his new friends. He knew all too well that rejection hurts. Snark and Kuma were prodding Khujand on before he had even stood up fully, egging on their new buddy. Jiranta stretched her arms out ahead of herself while beding forward, and had already locked her fingertips with his by the time he was out of his chair. She pulled him over behind her group of dancing friends with surprising force.

His heart was pounding as he fought back against the thought of embarrassing himself on his first night out.

_You don't remember how to dance_, the voice said with a sense of urgency. _You're going to make an ass out of yourself already and you're going to go running back into your shell at the end of the night and end up back at square one_. He tried his best to ignore it but -

Before he quite knew what was going on, the young girl had somehow managed to swing Khujand's burly frame around 180 degrees, take a big step forward straight into his chest and shove him down into the chair she had been sitting on. He braced the chair on both edges of the seat, relieved that - from what he could tell - he was expected to watch while she did the dancing.

As the drunken drummers continued to play on stage, their previously competing beats synced up with one another slightly. The noise of the crowd became one long, dull composite sound as Khujand began to feel far away. Jiranta's hands lead her arms like thin snakes through the air as she felt more rhythm than was actually in the music, bucking her hips like every troll girl learned to from childhood. Most of the other patrons were focused on their conversations or the stage, and enough couples and groups had stood up to dance that a protective maze of walls shielded anyone from looking over at Khujand's nervousness. He focused on the movement of his lungs in order to control his breathing and -

"Relaaaax," Jiranta hummed to him in a voice which was a bit high-pitched, though it appeared she had tried to sound sultry. She removed her upper coat and laid it on Khujand's shoulder, revealing a fur vest with the top button undone. The v-shape under her neck was low-cut and the garment was so short that her midriff along with the upper part of her hips were visible. She slowly raised one ankle from the floor after another, straightening out the knee of the opposite leg as she rotated herself in place. One of her knees brushed up against his, reminding him of how close they were. She avoided eye contact, however, appearing to be lost in herself.

She was thin, as Ushka had said. Almost the same body type as Zul'rea.

There was name he hadn't thought of in a while. Zul'rea. His second wife. The hair color was different. Zul'rea's was orange, though he always thought it was dyed. Their relationship lasted a few months and the had rushed in. She was impressed by his rank with...those people. It bolstered his normally low self confidence. Zul'rea was similarly young. Khujand has barely entered his second decade of life; Zul'rea was only fourteen years old. She was young, naive, submissive, docile. Everything an insecure boy trapped in a man's body would want. Even her appearance was childlike. Her hips had still been narrow when they met, at least by troll standards. Her elbows were a bit bony, like the type of child to be chided for not eating enough. Her lips were not yet full like a proper, mature Darkspear woman's should be. But she was his, and only his. Her attention had all been focused on him, until everything was taken away.

Khujand snapped back in to the present and realized he was fantasizing about one of his ex-wives in a room full of strangers. That sense of social impropriety set in only to be pushed aside by Jiranta edging closer to him as she practiced her moves. It was practically a lap dance at this point, though his discomfort was coming from somewhere else.

_Ushka said it's too late for her to be out_, the voice rang in his skull. _Why would she say that, genius?_

Khujand suddenly noticed the pelvic bone visible underneath the skin of Jiranta's narrow hips. Her skinny arms still reminded him of snakes slithering through the air, her bony elbows protruding more noticeably when she bent her arms. Her thin lips parted as she quietly giggled to herself, the lights gleaming off of tusks that were short even for a female. Alarms started going off in his head.

Without thinking, Khujand nudged her aside as slowly as possible so to avoid beign noticed by the rest of the patrons. Jiranta's dancing slowed down as he stood up behind her and wrapped her jacket over her shoulders, lightly pushing her through the crowd. "Come wit me, baby girl. I need to talk to ya outside."

"Oooh mista Kounjad, you move tings along quickly," she slurred dizzily. "Dis be excitin."

He ignored whatever she was mumbling after that and ushered her out the door as fast as he could without making a scene. Once on the porch, she put her arms into the sleeves of her coat and buttoned it up all the way.

"Come wit me, Jiranta." He turned up the bass in his voice, no longer overanalyzing or thinking much about the situation at all. He felt compelled to get her out of there. He held her wrist and walked across a small intersection, turning left and walking in to an alleyway. The young girl followed.

When he felt they were out of earshot of anyone, Khujand stopped to face her, making sure not to position himself between her in a corner or against a wall. He didn't want her to panic.

"Where we be goin, mista Kounjad?" She was trying - and failing - to sound sultry again.

"Girl, you drunk. You ain't smashed, but you shouldna drunk that much." His accent wasn't as thick as hers. "Ushka was worryin about ya earlier."

"I be my own boss mon, nobody puts no curfew on Jiranta!" She seemed to actually believe that.

"How old you be?" He turned up the bass in his voice again, though her shudder seemed to contain both nervousness and excitement. That only added to Khujand's discomfort.

"I be thirteen an seven months!" Her eyes beamed as though a number was some kind of achievement. Khujand was about to roll his eyes before he did a double take at the realization of just how young this little girl was.

"You comin with me. Now. You comin back to da inn and we gonna pretend I didn't jus find you out drinkin alcohol after dark in a place fulla strangers." He turned around and started walking, only to feel her tugging at his fingers with her free hand in an attempt to escape his grip.

"Nuh uh, dat's bullshit. I ain't even been out fo a hour yet. You best lemme go or Jiranta gonna make ya regret it!" The defiance in her voice visibly irritated him. A drunken brat was the last thing he wanted to deal with, but there was something inside prodding him on.

"Discussion over. You's a kid. Now - hey!" His words were interrupted by limp girl punches to his shoulder. "Knock it off!"

Her reaction was swift and fiercer than he had expected. "Fuck you Kounjad, Ushka ain't my boss and you ain't my daddy! You ain't my daddy! Get yo fuckin hands off me, Jiranta gonna make ya regret this!" Her voice was raised. There was no one around that Khujand could see, though his paranoia was taking over. This was not going as he had planned.

Khujand had never even known how to deal with arguments with Zul'rea, to whom he was mated, much less a drunk teenager he didn't even know. If any bystanders saw a brute like him dragging an underage girl through an alleyway, it would only end badly for him. He released his grip. He made sure to position himself between her and the tavern, hoping she would at least flee in the other direction.

"Fuck you and fuck yo mama and fuck yo tiny tusks and fuck -"

"GO!" His voice wasn't so much loud as it was gruff and filled with as much fake anger as he could muster. That finally did it. He saw a quick flash of fear in her eyes as she jumped back and whimpered in a way that send a short wave of guilt through his heart. As she turned and ran as fast as her inebriated legs would carry her, she made a left on the next street up. He could hear her footsteps turning toward the town gate.

_This could be even worse, now. That nitwit is heading away from the town itself._ Khujand saw a descending path forming a sort of natural ramp winding its way down the side of the raised settlement. He walked a few alleyways up to peek at her from a corner.

Yep. The little idiot was running out of town in the dark. As Khujand stood, he saw three dark figures move from from behind the next building over across the street from his vantage point. They were clearly following Jiranta down the ramp. Had they heard the exchange? Were they watching?

_You know what comes next_, the voice said in a lecturing tone.

"I jus wanted ta have a normal evenin with normal people." He wasn't sure if he just thought that or had said it out loud.

_You told Ushka you would send her back to the inn, where she belongs. If you hadn't tried to, she would just be back at the tavern embarrassing herself and damaging her liver a bit. You chose to drag her outside. She wouldn't be at this point otherwise. What happens now is worse. You know that._ His subconscious whispered everything he already knew, making sure he wouldn't forget it.

Khujand sighed heavily as he started trailing the sound of the footsteps, hanging back to avoid being seen. The fear of violating the conditions of his release hung heavy on his shoulders as he walked.


	2. Bad News

**A/N: Just was a warning, the beginning of this chapter is quite graphic. The first and third chapter (only three chapters) aren't this extreme, so if you don't like the violence and vulgarity you can skip past and still enjoy the rest of the story. The story becomes a bit intense here for reasons that will be understood in the next two stories featuring Khujand, so it isn't gratuitous without a reason. Hope the intent isn't misunderstood!**

Not a soul was to be seen on the edge of the settlement at Thunder Pass that night. Even the grunts normally guarding the town gate seemed to be absent, either patrolling the main streets or perhaps simply slacking off during the night shift. A slope from the flat edge upon which the settlement rested snaked around the ledge's corner, forming a natural ramp down to the expansive snowy valley below. With the exception of some volcanic activity off in the distance, there was no light beyond the main gate at all aside from the stars. The landscape turned pitch black within thirty yards of the settlement's entrance, and not even the white carpet on the ground could be seen. Not a sound could be heard other than the scuffling on a rocky walkway accompanied by a young girl sobbing.

Khujand moved as close as he could around the bend of the natural ramp, making sure to avoid any of the torches lighting the way. He was never a thief, but he had interacted with enough of them to slink around at night reasonably well. As he moved himself behind a pile of empty crates left by supply caravans, he was able to view a scene only twenty twenty-five feet or so away from him that made his stomach turn.

Jarinta was pressed up against the rocky wall forming the left edge of the natural lamp leading up to the settlement, a wooden railing lining the right edge. Two orcs and another troll formed a semi-circle around her, close enough to reach out and touch her. It was clear what was happening.

"I wanna go home!"

"We'll help you fine your home, sweetheart. But our help isn't free," oinked the one on the far left closest to Khujand's spot. He was wearing some sort of a stupid looking leather headband painted a light blue color. The way they were speaking was so cliche it would have been a joke had the intent behind it not been so sickening.

They might just harass her a bit and let her go, he tried telling himself. She had her chance to just walk back to the inn where she belongs; they might just scare her a bit and she'll learn a lesson. It would be easier for him to just believe that.

_You know that's a lie._ The voice deep in the back of his head had an accusatory tone. _You're the same as them if you walk away now._

The orc on the far left of the semi-circle and the troll on the far right were petting her wrists now. Her eyes were closed and she was visibly shaking; her coat was so thick that the shaking obviously wasn't due to the cold weather.

"I jus' wanna go my home, I be havin' some money, I-"

"Oh, we're taking you're money too, no doubt. And just a little bit more beyond that..." The punk sounded almost like he had rehearsed the line. All three of them were quite young, most likely born only a few years before the Third War. They wouldn't stand a chance as long as they couldn't call for help. But...it's not his problem, is it?

_And if it were your daughter?_

The voice wouldn't stop. This wouldn't happen to Khujand's daughter; she doesn't drink and wander the streets at night.

_How do you know that, asshole? You haven't even seen her in six years._

The voice's tone became harsher as Khujand shuffled away, moving silently back up the ramp. It's not his problem. It's not his problem. It's not his problem. She made her choice. It's her fault. She brought it on to herself.

Only five paces or so away from the commotion, he heard one of the ugliest sounds he could remember, and he heard a lot of ugly sounds during his time inflicting pain on others. It was a sound he only heard two other times in his life. A cry that made all the muscles in his core tense as he wished he was deaf. The sob he remembers only hearing from a woman who was giving up. Giving up and ready to accept whatever cruel joke fate was playing on her.

The first time was on Darkspear Isle, when one of the teenagers was assaulted outside of her hut on a quiet night. The second time was at the Crossroads, from a new female recruit who was cornered in the barracks. In both instances, older people in the respective communities stepped in and made the perpetrators wish the authorities had found them first. The ugly, horrifying sound was stopped before the worst part came.

_There isn't anyone else here this time. Only you. Will you let the worst part come now? Or will you make the choice to prevent it?_

"We know what ya want, girlie. Da question is, do ya want it rough or not? How long you gonna ache after ya get ruined?"

"I...no, not rough..."

Khujand actually put his hands over his ears now, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation. It's not your problem. Keep repeating it. You aren't with the town guard. Find one of them and just file a verbal report. Then you did your part.

_May you never forget whatever choice you make now, Khujand. May it be carved with a salted hook into the front of your lying, cowardly forelock until the very moment of your death._ The voice had turned into a scream now. He shuffled a bit faster.

* * *

Down the ramp, Jiranta felt hands on her shoulders as one of them tried to force her onto her knees. Her legs trembling, she was no longer able to keep herself stable and slumped down into a sitting position. Whatever was being said to her had all meshed into one incoherent sound as she felt her lungs constricting so much that she was breathing through her mouth. The three punks only seemed to become more excited at the sight.

"Get ready to choke down, sweet thing," the second orc rasped to her as he pulled his pants off. The troll already had a hand moving under Jarinta's shirt.

She finally opened her eyes, hearing footsteps none of her three assailants had seemed to notice. Two red, electric glowing eyes were towering behind them and a long object shined faintly before disappearing. She was afraid a fourth attacker, much worse than the first three, had decided to take a turn as well.

"Yeeoooowwww! No no no no no no no wait wait!" The orc wearing the stupid looking headband was yanked backwards, clasping at the foot-long blade which had been pushed all the way through his right ear. He sliced up his fingers up in the process of feeling for the source of the searing pain, and he seemed unable to stumble back quickly enough to keep up with the weight pulling him back and down by the head.

_One second._

The two others turned, now faced with the largest jungle troll they had ever seen pulling their friend by what seemed to be the hair, forcing him down and to the right. The larger man's left leg was held flexed straight behind him, only to be bent and thrust forward as the large knee connected with the small of the orc's back. He twisted his oversized knife like a corkscrew and the orc's only support was robbed. He began falling backwards, minus the right ear.

_Two seconds._

The second orc tried to zip his pants back up quickly and shout for help only for the knife to slash out at his face with lightning speed. The blade almost seemed to move through him, his tongue split in two pieces and his left cheek ripped open to expose his molar teeth all the way back to the night air. He fell as he tried in vain to move backward and reattach the two hanging flaps which were once his cheek, though he hit the ground after his friend who himself hit the ground after his own ear.

_Three seconds._

The younger jungle troll had already dashed around the second orc and threw a right sucker punch in the dark, connecting with Khujand's mouth. The older man took the blow, his eyes glowing an even brighter red as the pain stung his lips. He grabbed on to the other troll's right wrist with his own right hand, pulling him around in a half circle as the first orc rolled onto his side and vomited into his own hair from the nausea of having his body rocked with Khujand's knee. The second orc tried to scramble away on all fours. Jarinta had curled into a ball on the ground.

_Four seconds._

In one flowing movement along with the half circle, Khujand plunged his knife into the flesh behind the other troll's right elbow, pushing it straight out of the meat as he cut through the tendon holding the triceps muscle in place. A scream pierced the night though not loudly enough to reach the settlement about twenty feet up from that point on the ramp.

_Five seconds._

The knife came down on the smaller troll a second time, slashing his right buttocks horizontally and snipping the muscles underneath as Khujand dashed across his falling body toward the orc that was crawling away. The troll's right leg was almost unliftable as the first orc finished spilling the contents of his stomach. The second orc felt a hand grab him by the hair and pull him up before he could move very far.

_Six seconds. A bit overboard perhaps, but you still got it._

"Look at the dark out there, mon. You keep your eyes straight ahead and you look into the dark," Khujand finally said. The orc could only gag in response, his shredded tongue unable to form any words.

"You help your friends up. Now. You walk out to the valley down there. Now. You keep walking in the dark until you reach the next settlement. Now. Or I cut your neck open as slowly as possible. NOW."

He threw the orc on the ground toward his friends. The first orc had crawled onto his hands and knees and was clasping his right ear in his hand. Jarinta has somehow managed to stay in a ball while edging her way up the rocky left edge of the natural ramp. Khujand stomped over to the first orc, grabbing him by the arm and holding the knife near his eyeball as he forced him over to the other troll.

"NOW! I said NOW! Get out of this town NOW!" Khujand bellowed the end of each phrase as loud as he could, thrusting his head and neck forward at the group threateningly as the two orcs dragged the troll down the ramp before he could even hop up on his (still usable) left leg. Khujand hadn't gone berserk yet, but knew that scum like this were prone to revenge attacks. He had to frighten them as much as possible to ensure they were beaten mentally. He was back in prison mode now. Knocking over a pile of empty crates and barrels as he followed them down the ramp with his chest puffed out, he continued screaming as he waved the knife inches behind their backs. The other troll got his footing, the three helping each other out of town at a surprising speed as Khujand began launching the empty crates at them. The guards would notice the mess the next morning but would be none the wiser. He needed to scare these kids enough for them not to come back and either gather friends for a revenge attack or concoct a story for the guards. They didn't know about his record and likely couldn't use it against him, but his paranoia had almost completely taken over.

He continued throwing debris in their direction for a moment after they had already disappeared into the darkness, working out the rest of the adrenaline as his eyes stopped glowing and returned to their normal red hue. He remained standing for a while longer, peering into the darkness when he felt a limp body jump and cling to him.

Jarinta's sobbing was mostly unintelligible, though he did understand the phrases "mah heroe" and "I knew you'd come back for meh" as the girl almost seemed to hyperventilate. He quickly cupped his hand over her mouth, not wanting either any guards or - if they were still within earshot - the three injured assailants to hear her. Without even giving her the time to stabalize herself, he began dragging her back up the ramp as fast as he could, fight giving way to flight as he could focus only on getting Jarinta back to Ushka's inn. Once they got to level ground on the main street of the town, Khujand let her go and allowed her to trot behind him. This time, he was sure she would go the right way.

The adrenaline gone though his heart still racing, he entered the inn while dragging Jarinta again. Somewhere along the way, she had slowed down and her high-pitched ranting had turned into a low slur. Ushka and the hired men all appeared to be asleep and the mechanical, gnomish-designed clock on the wall had just struck midnight. Khujand fought against the panic building inside of him. He was with an unrelated underage girl who was drunk, on the verge of passing out and had just been sexually assaulted a mere ten to fifteen minutes before. He didn't know what to do, what to say to her, who to call on, who to report to. He had barely managed to make friends with some strangers in a bar who happened to be overly friendly and now he was doing the job of a surrogate father, a town guard and possibly a rape counselor.

Not knowing what else to do, he dragged Jarinta up the stairs and led her stumbling down the hallway to the women's shared room, grabbing the key from her belt without asking. This was too much. He didn't know what to do.

_Calm down. The last thing she needs is YOU losing it. Stop and think._

No time for thinking. He opened the door to her room, guided her inside and handed the key back to her. She was so disoriented that she didn't even protest.

"Go shower. The hot coals be in the bathroom. If the water ain't warm, warm it. Go to sleep. Don't let noone inside other than Ushka or Javilla. Don't come out until the mornin." It took all the strength he had to slow his speaking down to an almost normal speed.

"Thanks, mista Kounjad," she mumbled while staring down at her shoes as he closed the door for her. He stayed outside for a moment, hearing her lie down on the bed without even removing her coat. He waited for a moment more in case there was sobbing, and heard snoring instead. How could she just sleep like that after what almost happened to her?

He rushed downstairs as quickly as he could without making any noise, trying to ignore his mounting confusion. He double checked the sliding back door to make sure it was secured and tried to open every window before locking and unlocking the front door three times. It was implausible that the three punks would come back to Thunder Pass and even if they did, they had no idea where Jarinta would be. Still, it was difficult for Khujand to go back out of prison mode having been on the outside for only three weeks.

* * *

Only when he was sure the inn was absolutely silent, and Jarinta, Ushka, and the three hired men were asleep, did Khujand finally retire to his room. He, Ushka and Toruk were the only people allowed their own individual rooms at the inn; Khujand and Toruk had toilets and sinks and Ushka had a full bathroom with a tub, like the rooms shared by the men on one side of the hall and Jarinta and Javilla on the other. There were only five rooms left to actually be rented out, two of them without bathtubs. Truthfully, Ushka had bent over backward to make Khujand and Toruk feel at home and most of her income was coming from the three meals she served to locals downstairs. Travelers always went to one of the two taverns.

After running a theft check and inspecting his door and both windows, Khujand removed his custom-made troll shoes and crawled under the covers, his head spinning at what he had just done. Only three weeks out and he had already been forced to march through the Dark Portal, onto what he was told was an alternate timeline of the orc homeworld and fight through Frostfire Ridge to reach some sense of normalcy in only the last seven days. He was now sure he had violated his parole. His head was spinning.

He slashed the face open of one orc and temporarily crippled the other troll. The two orcs were likely weakened from blood loss and the troll could barely walk without help. He sent them out to the frozen wastes and was now sure that they wouldn't make it through the night.

_You know what they were going to do to the kid. She is a kid, by the way. An overdeveloped kid, but a kid nonetheless._ The inner voice had returned.

Perhaps he could have beaten them up, or attacked them with a blunt object instead of a knife.

_And if you had just knocked them out, what would happen the next time they found Jarinta? Or Javilla? Or any other young woman in the only home you now know?_

He didn't answer. It was uncanny how his inner monologue seemed entirely independent from his conscious train of thought.

_You know guys like this. They're all arrogance and audacious pride. If you beat them up and left them here, they would have gathered the people against you. You technically only had friends for thirty minutes. You had to make them leave. Would they have left if you hadn't grievously injured them?_

Khujand was uncomfortable with the line of reasoning. He knew it would lead back to him. He didn't commit sexual crimes, but he knew he was violent nonetheless. The old him showed that it still existed when he attacked the three punks tonight.

Does a rapist deserve to die?

_Why ask about morality? You know what would have happened to the kid. She's a thirteen year old kid. A stupid girl who nobody warned properly. There was no other way for you to get them off of her while still ensuring that they wouldn't try again._

If they deserved to die, why don't I deserve to die?

_Irrelevant._

The prosecutor tried to have me put on death row. The only reason I got off with such a relatively easy deal was because Lorthiras is probably the most amazing yet dishonest and underhanded lawyer on Azeroth. That man would defend Archimonde himself, and would probably win the case too.

_You're alive. That's a fact. Jarinta is safe for now. That's a fact. If those three miscreants die, they brought it on to themselves._

And it's a fact that I'm arguing with an imaginary voice in my head, he thought. Khujand focused as much as he could on loosening his jaw muscles, relaxing his back and and controlling his breathing as he drifted off miraculously fast given what he had done that night. He had a big day ahead of him tomorrow.

* * *

Feeling the call of nature, Khujand woke up just after dawn. After relieving himself, the most he could do was wash his hands, face and feet - the weather was so cold that he only bathed one every few days and only around high noon. He rushed to finish up in the bathroom, put his shoes on and get out. He had a long day of networking ahead.

As he crept out into the hallway, he braced his hands on both walls to lighten his uncontrollably heavy footsteps. Sneaking on wooden floors was far more difficult than sneaking on pounded earth with a light covering of snow. Once he got downstairs, he snuck around the back area carefully. Once he realized the area was clear, he ate a handful of dried berries and snuck out the sliding back door, jerry rigging the lock from the outside so noone would even know he had left. Thunderhorn, the huge tauren from the tavern last night, had mentioned that he was one of the stable hands. Khujand needed to get to Thunderhorn.

Only employees working in the absolute essential fields such as garbage collectors, street sweepers and water carriers were out and about at this morning at six o'clock, all under the watchful eyes of a few drowsy town guards. Khujand was able to hurry over to the town stables without anyone seeing him. Why he was worried about being seen in a town where he had socialized for a grand total of one half hour over the course of seven days, he did not know. Prison mode was hard to break out of, even when he was mixing it with the social and networking skills he was starting to regain.

Thunderhorn was already saddling up the larger frostwolves when he saw Khujand come around the corner. "Khujand! You disappeared on us last night! How does your head feel?" The tauren was grinning. Khujand had tried to resist their drinks as long as he could, though he essentially succumbed to drinking a bit from Zorena's mug before the dancing had started.

"I be fine, Thunderhorn, fine enough to work. And if you don' mind me askin, I overheard you say to Patina last night that you be meetin a caravan of industrial and carpentry supplies halfway on their trek back this mornin." He needed to get someone he could trust out of town to speak, to gather support. He didn't know anybody other than Ushka well enough to trust them, but for whatever reason his paranoia did not turn his suspicions on certain races in general - pandaren, draenei and tauren for the most part. It was stereotyping, but at this point his thinking wasn't 100% rational.

"Hmm...to be honest Khujand, we have extra frostwolves but there's already enough help and not enough pay to go around as it is. It would be a tough sell to the son of a cousin of a cousin of a trade prince that owns the stables." Thunderhorn almost felt embarrassed to admit that there wasn't a place for one more.

"I don' want money, actually. I need to talk to you, outside of town. You got one more man here, totally free of charge. I just need your ear for a while." He could tell that his voice sounded pleading, and he hoped it would stir the old tauren's heart. Thunderhorn looked at the big jungle troll for a moment before sighing heavily.

The trek out to meet the caravan halfway took a few hours, and there was a delay when the only wagon among the pack animals suffered from a broken wheel. It was times like that when Khujand didn't regret his size. Jungle troll men were ideally slim and lanky like runners; Khujand's muscles had poor definition but he was much bulkier, and Darkspear women sometimes remarked that he was too big for their taste. He developed a self consciousness about being built like a forest or ice troll that melted away in situations like the broken wagon wheel. The rest of the caravan workers were amazed at how Khujand and Thunderhorn held up the entire wagon by themselves for the ten minutes it took the forsaken wagon driver to repair and test the wheel. As his confidence increased, he found it easier to open up and behave normally with people on the outside.

It was during the trek out to meet the wagon that Khujand opened up about what had happened to Jarinta the night before, though he left out the details of how badly he had wounded the three attackers for fear of appearing as bad as them. It was on the way back that he felt the sincerity and warmth of Thunderhorn come out. The old tauren had not only believed his story, but was angry enough to suggest spreading word among the guards and testifying to Khujand's honesty.

"The settlement of Thunder Pass is a new community, but these are almost all good people who left their lives on Azeroth behind for the sake of defending it," Thunderhorn lectured. "Harassment of any person is not something to be taken lightly, especially of the underaged." He exhaled heavily in disapproval, surprising Khujand with how seriously he took the troll's story. "Neither you nor she have anything to worry about."

"I'm glad you believin me. I be new here. You coulda said I was jus some drifter causin trouble," Khujand said.

"I read people well," his horned friend answered. "I'm not skilled at many things, but that's something I can do. We will inform the town guard of what happened, and things will get back to normal." His voice was confident.

* * *

By the time they had returned to Thunder Pass, it was already past noon. Some of the craftspeople in the town were lined up by the railing on the natural ramp leading up to the raised settlement, ready to help carry supplies off of the wagons and animals by hand. It would certainly make the trek up the ramp a lot easier.

The two new compatriots moved ahead and returned the frostwolves to their stable, relieved to leave the supplies behind in the hands of able-bodied laborers and skilled workers who needed them. Thunderhorn attempted to introduce Khujand to the owner, though the goblin merely waved from behind a large financial report he was reading without looking up.

"He's a respectful guy and will remember this," Thunderhorn chuckled. "Don't take his sense of duty to our work personally."

"Not at all," Khujand replied. "He already did me a favor by lettin me tag along. Hey, will you guys be round the tavern tonight?"

"There's a second one on the opposite end of town. We like to switch things up a bit. Stop by after sunrise if you can, Snark is bringing a set of dice along. Don't worry, we only play for snacks, not cash."

"You can bet on it." Khujand spoke with confidence gained after feeling he was adjusting to normal life so quickly after the bloody confrontation the night before.

Although he knew he had to head back to the inn, he decided to check by the same tavern first and grab a small pastry. The caravan had waterskins the riders could share, though the only food available was a biscuit and some more berries. He wanted to spoil himself after the long ride.

Walking through the double doors, he saw the orc Patina and Kuma's sister Zorena chatting together near the bar. They hadn't seen him come in, though he moved in their direction. He wasn't looking to flirt, but after being around nothing but other men for so many years - aside from the occasional female guards and labor overseers - he was happy to finally have the opportunity to make female friends again. He enjoyed hearing women talk and listening to their perspectives in a way he couldn't quite explain. Even Ushka scolding him for cutting too deep into a kill or returning from a hunt empty handed was like a breath of fresh air.

As he approached their table, the two women looked at him a bit wide-eyed as though they were surprised. It seemed odd; they had only seen him last night. Their reaction didn't make sense to him.

"Sorry ladies, was I interruptin something?" He held his hand on the back of a chair but waited for their answer before sitting down.

"No, it's alright," Patina muttered while still appearing in some sort of shock. "Actually, it's better. Do you feel okay?" She had a concerned look on her face that made Khujand uncomfortable as he sat down. He tried his best to act normal, taking one of her pastries without realizing that grabbing food from someone's plate was socially inappropriate. In prison it would start a fight; outside, he thought it must be the opposite among friends. He was still learning.

"Yeah, I just be hungry after workin that caravan with Thunderhorn," he said with a mouth full of jelly and dough. "Wow, does this have strawberry in it?"

The two women were staring at him incredulously now and he tried to continue eating to hide his awkwardness. Surely he must have done something wrong. Should he put the half-eaten pastry back on Patina's plate?

"We heard you had left before everyone was up and went with Thunderhorn," Zorena said, breaking the silence. "You...you don't know? If you just got back, I guess you wouldn't know, would you?"

"Well, tell me then! What happenin?" He tried to finish the pastry too fast, not noticing the vegetable delivery kid speaking with the cashier behind the bar.

"Shame what happened to that troll girl at the inn, isn't it?" The cashier was nodding sadly as the delivery kid continued. "They said her roommate just found her dead in her sleep around eight this morning. We just had a peon die of a heart attack two days ago, too." The next few sentences fell on deaf ears.

"Patina! Patina!" Zorena was already out of her chair.

"What? Oh, the pastry!"

"Get him out of the chair, he can't breathe. Goodness, he's heavy! Help me!"

"He's making choking sounds! Can you hear me right now?"

"I know a maneuver to get it out of his throat!" The delivery kid came rushing as the two women each had a hold of one of Khujand's arms.

"Hold him! Hold him! He's tipping backward!"

"Why does he have to weigh so much!"

The whole exchange took place even faster than the fight the night before. The last thing he could remember was the table flying far away from him as he passed out.


	3. Move On

Everything was a blur. The individual sounds he could hear, odors he could smell, vibrations he could feel, all of them were as indistinguishable from one another as the high contrast of colors marring his vision and the mixture of feelings welling up inside of him. He had imagined this would be the happiest day of his life. It was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, but the nervousness had welled up inside of him as well.

It was only a few weeks ago that he had celebrated his nineteenth birthday, and here he was waiting for his daughter to enter into the world. By the standards of the Darkspear, he had started a bit late on starting a family though given the turmoil wrought by the Third War it was understandable. His life had been a whirlwind since his people joined the Horde and left their isle, sailing yet again to unknown lands. Only in the last year or so had the world returned to a relative calm, allowing the people of Azeroth to try and get on with their lives. It was supposed to be the right thing for him, for them, for their situation.

The responsibility was overwhelming, though. He had enjoyed guarding highways and merely taking orders, and the amount of travel involved meant there was never a dull moment. Now he had more or less been pushed into accepting a higher position which wasn't commensurate to his young age and only had a week to return to their new village and await the biggest responsibility of an adult's life. He hadn't technically even experienced fatherhood yet, though it was already weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He shifted between sitting nervously and pacing back and forth depending on whether or not there were passersby. He took any second he was given to be alone with himself to work out some of the pent up energy by pacing back and forth across the porch quickly, one hand clasped on the other wrist behind his back. As soon as another local passed in front of the hut while going about their business that evening, he would rush back to his chair to avoid being seen as a nutcase. One of his legs would invariably end up bouncing nervously anyway as he waited for whichever neighbor it was to pass out of sight. His in-laws' place was situated opposite the back of the next row of huts. The denizens directly to the left or the right were either mingling down by the beach in the case of the menfolk and his father-in-law, or inside with his wife in the case of the womenfolk. He knew he wouldn't be allowed inside - midwifery and and emotional support during birth were strictly female affairs in their culture - but he was too anxious to focus on anything else.

It was quite literally hours during which nothing could be heard from inside other than chanting by the neighbors, the witch doctor murmuring her instructions to the others and his wife's occasional cries of pain. It hurt his ears despite their estrangement; though he would never admit it, he realized how much tougher she must be than him. He couldn't imagine what the process must feel like across all those hours. He pledged that no matter how she felt, he would at the minimum behave more kindly and cordially whenever she needed to speak to him. She was bearing such a huge burden for the sake of their dysfunctional family.

The suspense was overwhelming. When would her cries give way to those of a newborn? They had waited so long for this moment yet the wait now seemed impossible, here at the very last hour. It was a struggle not to think about money, about emotional support, about the responsibility. His wife was not formally educated like he was; would she be able to teach the girl to read and write while he was away? As much as he disliked thinking of it, he didn't want his daughter to end up like his wife, living with a family like hers and married to a husband like him. She could do so much more. The Horde was more open minded than the traditional society of most jungle trolls. She would be able to learn modern medicine, perhaps even this new steam technology the goblins were peddling, or even swing an axe and become a fighter. A part of him still chuckled at the thought. These were interesting times to live in.

Eventually, he gave in and slumped down in his seat, the colorful, noisy, pungent, bitter haze pulling him along like a strong current. He bent over forward and rested his head on his knees, hands folded over the back of his neck. This was almost as bad as when his friends had dared him to eat those mushrooms growing on a dead murloc. This was supposed to be the happiest day, but he had never expected all these other emotions as well.

Suddenly, there was silence. He didn't know for how long he had been trying to tune everything out, but at some point he had missed the grand moment. Looking up, it had grown dark on the little dirt pathway and the commotion inside had died down. Sensitive ears pricking up, there was just the faintest sound of hushed cooing over the sound of an infant's cries. He fought back tears as he stood up, pacing again to work it out of his system. There would be a few minutes before they would bring her outside for a quick look before shutting the reed door for the night.

He had started doing some light jumping jacks when he heard the familiar sound of his mother-in-law's footsteps approaching from the inside. The lightness of the pitter patter indicated that she was empty handed. The door slid open to the side and though all the lights had been blown out in the hut, he could barely make out the smile on her face. No matter how bad the relationship had become, she was still glad to have him around. She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside, spurring a series of internal questions. This was a bit odd in light of their customs; he wasn't supposed to be in the house, though his mother-in-law wasn't so beholden to tradition.

As they moved down the hallway, he could feel a presence to his left. The womenfolk had all crowded into the kitchen and pulled the curtain across the entryway, though he could see a few peeking eyes and hear some giggles as he walked by. It was certainly a sight to behold so soon after the birth; the father wasn't supposed to be there yet. They entered the room on the opposite side so fast that there was no time to collect himself, though upon seeing her for the first time the tide of anxiety disappeared so fast that it was unnecessary.

There was single candle on a small table in the corner of their bedroom, wedged between the wall and their relatively small bed. His wife had been moved onto a special rocking chair made of reeds and palm tree lumber. It expanded under the wait of the person sitting in it and was tilted at an angle that allowed his wife to almost lie down in it. She wore nothing other than a long blue towel draped over and under her body, and though the night was not particularly humid the sweat still glistened on her skin. She didn't look up as they entered the room, though it was more due to her exhaustion than her disappointment in him. She had managed to rest her head against the high back of the chair at such an angle that it was tilted with her vision aimed right at the little bundle of joy in her arms.

His hands trembled far less than he had expected him too, and his heart rate and breathing were under far tighter control all things considered. The crying had stopped and she appeared to be asleep, wrapped up in a brown blanket. Leaning down for a closer look - he knew he wouldn't be allowed to hold her yet - he took in all her features. Her eyes were still closed and would likely stay that way for the first few days. The upper lip curved slightly over the lower lip, her toothless mouth wedged between two puffy blue cheeks. The start of light red hair could be seen on the top of her scalp given the angle the candlelight was shining on her, and he could watch the blanket move up and down slowly as she breathed. He wanted to reach out and take hold of her so badly.

"What'ser name gonna be?" he finally asked.

The answer was quick and direct, though without the normal force given her weakened state. "When momma and I choose a name, we'll be lettin ya know." Her mother shot her a disappointed glance, though it wasn't noticed.

It normally would have been irritating, but at that moment it was as irrelevant as her pettiness. There was nothing, on that night, that could bring the mood down. He lingered a few minutes longer before his mother-in-law led him back out to the porch and he candles were lit again. He likely wouldn't be allowed back in until the day after tomorrow, but it didn't matter. She was healthy and in good hands, and he still had another three days leave until he would need to head to Razor Hill and join the caravan to the Mor'shan Rampart. The thought of his new position didn't seem to bad now. He would be separated from her, but there wasn't any work in the village that would allow him to provide such a stable home. His long, proud tusks jutting out in front, he ran yipping on an isolated strand of the beach to work out his excitement before finding and informing big daddy - his father-in-law was now the patriarch since his own father's death last year. They would find out eventually, but for now he needed some time to bask alone in his glee.

A different haze was breaking away now. There was squirming underneath his wide back muscles as he slowly felt the sensation returning to his body. A voice reached him from a medium range, though she wasn't his mother-in-law.

"Khujand? Hey, that wasn't long, he's waking up already."

"What the fel, he got pieces of the pastry on my sleeve."

Khujand? Who's that?

_That's you, idiot. Answer them._

"Khujand, we need you to move, you crushed the vegetable delivery kid."

"Please! I think I want to cough up my food too!"

His vision returned to him as he could see the ceiling moving back over his head and the table pull up in front. The squirming sensation on his back disappeared as a young orc moved out from under him. He was sitting up now, still a bit dizzy as he could make out Zorena's furry muzzle close to the right side of his face. It was as though he had dove under the waves and held his breath for a very long time, now finally gasping for air. His throat hurt every time he swallowed, and he leaned to his left before feeling Patina's hands placed on his big bicep and shoulder. All he remembered was that he was hurt and they were helping him up off a tavern floor. The smell of alcohol was absent.

"Come on," Patina urged him, "Get up. The chair is right here, you need to sit up."

Zorena shook a finger at her. "Give him a minute, we don't want his abdomen moving too much. Hey, are you breathing alright?"

His senses had jumped back at attention. A pastry. His eyes opening wide. A quick shockwave of blood throughout his body. Something had shocked him. "I be fine, I be fine." His confusion took his mind away from the embarrassment.

"Yeah, don't worry about the kid that was just squished like a pancake, I'm fine too," muttered the delivery kid resentfully.

Patina gave the kid and then the cashier a reassuring nod before turning to Zorena. "He might need some air. Maybe it would be better to fill him in if you took a walk."

Helping the oaf to his feet, Zorena asked: "Can you walk alright? Do you think you can go outside?"

"Yeah, I be fine, really." He wasn't fine, but he wanted to forget the fact that he probably looked like a huge drama queen. His eyes must have bulged out of his head when he heard the news, and his shock had caused him to suck the piece of dough down the wrong tube in his throat.

Out in the afternoon cold, Khujand and Zorena walked side by side briskly, looping around the various little roads and alleys of the settlement as she tried to tell him as sensitively as she could. The way she looked at him gave the impression that she thought he might faint again. The walking was envigorating, though, and it made the conversation much easier.

"She hadn't been well for a while, apparently, but she kept that to herself. I think only her roommate and your boss knew." Zorena struggled to speak loud enough to be heard over the bustle of the small yet busy roads but quiet enough that their conversation wasn't public. "I didn't speak to either of them, but Snark implied that it didn't come as a surprise. All the partying that girl did in the last two weeks probably didn't help."

The fact that she really was gone hadn't entirely sunk in yet. The streets were full of business as usualy, and there was no way of knowing that already a young girl had passed on, been examined, and then had a funeral procession with enough time remaining for people to get back to work. It didn't seem right, for things to become normal so quickly. She wasn't a solider or anyone who was supposed to be exposed to danger. Over intellectualizing the situation delayed the inevitable sting of realizing a child had passed.

"Ya know she was underaged, right?"

Zorena looked down and exhaled deeply. "We all had a feeling. She was a tall girl and probably grew up fast, but we knew she was probably too young to be hanging around these places. Nobody could have said anything to her, though. She came off as the confrontational type." Zorena didn't see something in her own words, though irony might not have been the right term to describe it.

"Her roommate found here around seven in the morning," the tauren continued, "which was about half an hour after you and Thunderhorn were gone. People all the way over in the next building heard the girl - the roommate - screaming. There was a lot of commotion and your hunting partner went running out in the street to the apartments the local shamans share. They came to examine her and declared that she died from natural causes, some cause that neither earthspirits, magic or holy Light would fix. It was too late for treatment. It took them some time to round up some of your hired men over there who had already been running errands, and they heard at the stables that you and Thunderhorn were gone."

Khujand sidestepped a rubbish bin as the two of them crossed a tiny intersection and continued down another alleyway, not realizing how close they were to the inn. He was listening so intently that he didn't even notice it until it was right in front of him, and his horned companion was looking in the other direction.

"There really wasn't much to be done. Life out here is hard," she sighed. "They prepared the body best they could, held a small funeral procession to the cemetary they've set up past those two hills that look like turtles, and buried her. Everyone had returned within five hours of initially discovering her death, and by two in the afternoon people got back to their business. That was just before you walked in. The elements, the environment and the enemy have taken their toll. Funerals happen every week here, and new recruits, workers and travelers arrive every day. The settlement has at least seventeen-hundred people registered as residents here. Life goes on, as cruel as that sounds."

It didn't sound cruel coming from Zorena's lips - the druid had dedicated her life to celebrating life. She was only stating a fact. Still, the emptiness of having lost somebody was starting to expand. It was a strange feeling, to feel that emptiness over someone he had barely even spoken to, though interpersonal relationships were new to him and everything was a bit overwhelming. He told himself it would feel normal soon enough, thoug he immediately felt selfish for thinking about his own condition considering what had transpired that morning.

"We're here," Zorena said gesturing to the signpost of the inn. "Your boss will want to see you. She'll surely have more details herself, and will want to hear from you what Jarinta had been up to the night before. That girl was like another kid to her."

They parted and Khujand walked in. From the door, he could immediately see the hired men huddled around the blue boar that still hadn't been completely butchered. They were working so slow that it was obvious that their mood was as blue as the animal they carved. He could hear Javilla talking to someone emotionally upstairs, like Toruk. The chairs were all empty aside from Ushka, resting her head in one hand with her elbow on the table. When she noticed him enter, the orc sat up slowly and beckoned him over. Ushka was a tough woman - tougher than most of the grunts in the town garrison - though it was apparent from her face that she felt a sense of loss. He hurried over and sat down.

"We tried to find you," she said, jumping into conversation immediately. "You picked a fel of a time to wander off on us. I even unlocked your room to check if you slept through Javilla screaming." For a brief second, Khujand forgot about everything else as the thought of his room being opened without his presence jabbed into him deeply.

"Do ya wanna start, or should I?" he asked.

"Well, let me -" Ushka had tried to start, though they were interrupted by two laborers entering the door. Ushka quickly stood up, brushed off her apron and shook her head to herself, smiling as though they hadn't just been discussing the death of a young girl that very morning. Khujand stood too. He was technically only working as a hunter-gatherer and occasional bouncer, but in front of customers he had to be courteous.

"We're sorry to hear about your loss over here," the one on the right started. "We weren't sure if you'd still be serving today." They almost looked shy to be there.

Ushka looked sad again for a moment but continued smiling. "There's no need for us to bring down the mood of others. We have some creamy potato soup that's ready if you need something to keep you going for the rest of the day." She wasn't terse, though there was no need to spend too much time chatting.

"We'd appreciate it. We don't want to impose, though..." the other one said while looking down at his shoes, still fishing for approval.

"It's quite alright. Sit anywhere you'd like, we'll have it out in just a moment." She shot Khujand a glance indicating that he was to follow her.

Back in the kitchen, Ushka prepared the bowls and poured the soup. She had everything ready within thirty seconds, and Khujand would have slowed her down had he tried to help. She gave him the serving tray himself, which he brought out as he exited the door backwards. He was back in just a minute, having mentioned to the two laborers to inform the butchers if they needed anything.

The kitchen was quite clean considering the number of customers the inn occasionally had for late lunches, and the tables, countertops and cooking pots were all brand new. Ushka had built the inn with grant money from the coffers of Orgrimmar, and most everything was brand new and sent in bulk by the same trade princes that had suggested the contracting idea for serving garrison towns in the first place. Ushka was leaning back against the countertop farthest from the door. A large table was in the middle of the kitchen, with various pots and pans hanging from a rack suspended over said table. As Khujand walked around the table, he grabbed a small stool and sat down in front of her, his head slightly lower than hers.

"What happened last night?" Her eyes were inquisitive, though not angry. He was afraid that he would somehow be blamed for what happened to her. It didn't make sense, but that feeling had become the norm for quite some time.

"She was drinkin. A lot more than someone so skinny shoulda been. Toruk and Javilla were with her, and they probably bought her the drinks." His irritation came through in his tone of voice. "Javilla dared her to ask me to dance or somethin, and when I saw her up close I was realizin that she was too young to be there. I dragged her outside, not knowin what else to do."

Ushka stood listening, her arms folded. She was waiting to hear the rest of it. He stroked his chinstrap beard in thought, trying to remember how he had explained it to Thunderhorn. Ushka would need all the details, even the not-so-nice ones. "She told me she was only thirteen. I didn' know what to do, that girl was killin herself with liquor in there. We...had an argument and I think I scared her. She ran. I saw three younguns go after her. I knew they were up to no good."

He paused, knowing that the next part could very well ruin what he had been trying to rebuild over the past few weeks. He trusted Ushka, but he still didn't know or read people that well and he was aware of that fact. It was a huge risk to tell her what really happened. But if Thunderhorn understood after knowing Khujand for about half an hour, Ushka should too.

"I ain't sure. About what happened, after the fact. But I think I killed them. I saw what they were doin to her. And. You know, you have kids Ushka. I got a little girl." He regretted saying that part out loud; he was legally barred from ever seeing his children again. There was no need to dig that up if he was to rebuild a new life, but he was speaking before he could think at this point.

"She ain't as old or, um, developed as Jarinta. As Jarinta *was*, now. But you know how it would feel. I saw what they were tryin to do to a little girl. She wasn't my little girl but she's little and a girl, like mine. It could just as easily be mine in a situation like that one day, I don't know. And I...I lost control. I cut them up bad, real bad, and chased them until they were out in the dark cold of the valley. I straight ran them out of town, and they didn' come back last night. Nobody would live through that. Jarinta was hyper for just a few minutes after that, and then alluffa sudden she gets drowsy when we were comin back. I was panicked and didn' notice at the time, but it wasn't right. I took her upstairs and she fell asleep. I shoulda noticed that wasn' right, but I didn'."

Realizing he was hunched over, he sat up straight again. Ushka was looking at him intently now. The cat was out of the bag; he had just confessed to possibly murdering three people in one night while on parole. There was no point in being afraid any longer. If she was going to rat him out, there was nothing he could do. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but either way it was out of his hands.

"I found the stablehand this mornin because I knew he would believe me. I didn' think at the time that those punks had probably died out there. I was afraid of people findin out in the wrong way, in the way three animals like that would try to tell it. I needed my back, you know, my back behind me in case it came down to it if they returned and it had to be settled down in another side street. Just idiocy, I guess. I was so worried thinkin about savin my own hide, I didn' even stop and check to see if Jarinta was okay the next mornin." That last part stung him to admit. Hard.

Ushka remained leaning against the counter and brought both hands up to wipe her face and forehead. Her hands remained there on her jaw for too long, covering her mouth as she thought all this over.

She finally spoke. "Did anybody else see what happened?"

"Nope. Not possible. They woulda come to see, there woulda been shoutin in the streets or people waitin for us when we had come up from the ramp." He was sure about this one. His paranoia wouldn't have allowed onlookers to go unnoticed.

"Then whatever you told me just now, you didn't just tell me," she replied. "And you don't tell it to a single living soul. You did the only thing you could have. And I don't blame you. But I don't want you to ever talk about it again to me or anyone else."

"Understood, boss." This was probably the most reassuring response he could have hoped from her. "But..." The sense of loss had come back, knowing his turn to speak was done. He wasn't devastated, but he was downtrodden. She was kid. It didn't seem fair. "There has to be info you ain't told me yet."

Ushka fanned herself with her hands even though the air was cold. "I thought I would be done with this by noon. I wish you had been here, somehow. I wish it could be over now." He had never seen the strong, independent orc squirm before. She very well could have been a denmother had her knees and back been in better condition, giving birth to her eleventh future warrior baby on one day and back to chopping the heads off of Alliance weaklings the next. Khujand hated to see Ushka in such a position of vulnerability as she was in now, but he needed to know.

"Don't ever judge that girl for the way she behaved, I'm warning you right off the bat. She made some bad choices, but she did the best with the life she was given. Nobody could have held their head high like she did given her circumstances." He nodded, another order understood. He was the last person on Azeroth...er, Draenor to be judging the behavior of others anyway.

"I helped raise Javilla along with my own children after my husband left us at Razor Hill," Ushka started. "Javilla was the one who found Jarinta, also an unwanted child. She was a toddler when we found her, being neglected at some inn she had been left at. This world is a cruel, evil place and I knew the day Javilla brought her to me that she would probably end up like this. But we did the best we could to make it a little bit easier. Javilla and I slept in shifts to keep her hydrated, and we both ate a little bit less to make sure she had some semblance of nutrition. When we heard they had opened an orphanage in Orgrimmar, it was our only hope for something more. We thought if we volunteered to work for free, they would give Jarinta and my own daughter and surviving son a place to sleep at night."

Ushka paused for a moment, collecting herself. This wouldn't be as simple as 'she got sick from the Frostfire weather and died.' It was obviously more complicated, and more tragic, than that. She controlled her emotions well and it was clear she had already shed many tears in her life. The hurt was still apparent, though. He almost wanted to give her a hug before she continued, though that would certainly end with some cooking instrument colliding with his head. He remained still, avoiding eye contact and giving her all the time she needed to get a hold of herself and continue.

"For once, we were right and things had worked out. My kids shared a cot with five orphans at night and Jarinta was put in a little basket that was built for carrying eggs. One of the other volunteers gave up her only jacket to serve as a blanket, and Jarinta and I gave up our socks to pad the bottom of it. The two of us slept on some piles of rags with two other volunteers in the space between the orphanage and Orgrimmar's mountainous walls; there wasn't enough room inside. But it was our space, they were our rags and the kids had a proper shelter to sleep in. For us, it felt like a luxurious life."

Khujand was too depressed to even blink and the story was probably only halfway through. He would still probably have traded his own situation to be in theirs, but the difference is that he deserved everything he had gotten. These people...these were good people. It wasn't fair. It was painful to listen to.

"Nutrition and hygeine were issues, as you could imagine. The sanitation was awful, and death of some of the scrawnier orphans was a normal occurrance. Jarinta was often ill, and at some point she had a real bad bout after drinking some contaminated water. Her and two other kids. There was this undead priest - apparently, that's an actual thing - would come by once a month to deliver free check ups. It would take him twelve hours to see everybody. He was the first to notice that Jarinta had something in her. Something natural. If it were a curse, or poison, or fel magic, it might have been easier to cure even if the effects would have been worse. But she had a regular disease. The priest couldn't cure it. A shaman who thought of himself as a traveling hero couldn't purge it. A druid from Thunderbluff helped her contain it, but she lived through a lot of really awful bouts.

"She grew up on the streets while Javilla and I were volunteering, and she turned out like you would imagine. She experienced everything way too early, found out about things way too soon. She was a rough and tumble girl and got into trouble a lot for it. She had her first period when she was only eight years old and she started noticing boys soon after. But she learned fast that men are disgusting - no offense - and she protected herself despite growing up so fast. But she was happy. That was what shocked both of us. She was so happy even when she was wearing Javilla's old clothes for days on end and had nothing to do with her time except running through the streets and looking for dropped pieces of copper. We knew she was doing other things too, things she wasn't supposed to be doing, but we were too exhausted for the roaring argument we knew would ensue, and too sad during her bouts of jaundice and coughing up blood to tell her 'no.' Despite our poverty, she was a little bit spoiled."

Ushka took a deep breath, not having realized how long the tale would be. Khujand fingered the three-inch knubs that were once long, proud tusks, his attention span not wavering in the least. He suddenly felt the personality of the foul-mouthed little firebrand come to life in his mind.

"When the advertisements for contracts and grant money went out, we saw another opportunity. The goblins had suggested that to Vol'jin the second day that the Dark Portal to this version of Draenor was open, and the coffers opened up. You soldiers had secured the way to Frostfire Ridge by then - thanks for that, by the way - and, well, goblin money got a portal route for civilian service and logistics workers from Orgrimmar to Frostfire by the fourth day. Can you believe that? Four days, and we had been selected from townies here. More women than men, interestingly enough. Anyway, it was a big group of us and from Frostfire, we were basically assigned businesses that had been built with free grant money. They interviewed each group of settlers for five minutes, trusted that we weren't lying about our life experience and assigned us to a post. We were here at Thunder Pass a week after the Dark Portal had been opened and a day after the Battle of Thunder Pass has ended in the Horde's favor. That was a week before you arrived. We thought that we could have as normal of a life as possible here on Draenor. Jarinta was so starry eyed and happy to be out of the orphanage.

"For whatever reason, it got so much worse for her here. We don't know if it was the cold, the portal, the traveling across Frostfire or what. But by the first night here at this new inn, this brand new building that was finally our own place, our own home, our own prosperity, her fits had become so bad. Her jaundice usually came and went after half a day, but the yellow hue in her eyes and skin was here to stay. Waking up in the morning with a bloody mouth and lips had become the norm. She was in a lot of pain, and we could feel the swelling on her liver. I knew she was drinking when she was going out at night. I knew Javilla was probably buying it for her. But I didn't know what to do. I was so sure that the worst was about to happen. Jarinta wasn't quite like a daughter to me or a sister to Javilla...she was never really close to anyone, but she was somehow a part of this non-traditional family. And I knew we were losing her. And the fact that she didn't let it get her down, that she never sulked, that she was even happier and loved life more than we did...I just couldn't say no to anything in these past two weeks. She got whatever she wanted because we were so afraid of the inevitable. She wasn't."

There were still no tears, but she sadness could no longer be hidden. It was painful for them both now, but he could tell it was almost finished. They both needed it to finish.

"She was rinsing the blood our of her mouth two mornings ago, and she just looked at Javilla. Javilla told me this after it happened. Jarinta looks at her and told her it was time. She felt it now. It was her time to go and it was just a matter of when. The drinking might have accelerated her the breakdown of her liver, though she was just having the time of her life in her last few days. I loved that girl so much for being able to do that, for not just shutting down. She loved life to the very end, a life most people would see no reason to love. She was so strong."

Without even realizing it, Khujand had stood up and was already wrapping his arms around Ushka. She was tense and didn't hug back, but she allowed him to do it. It was probably more for himself than for her. In any other context, she would have been reaching for a frying pan already.

"Thank ya for tellin me, but I need one more thing. And I got no right to ask, but ya know that I can' stop myself," he whispered as he let go and stepped back. They both knew it was asking a lot, but for him she would do it.

A fifteen minute hike was all it took to reach the two turtle hills. Ushka stood a few feet back with her arms folded across her chest again, giving Khujand a moment longer than she felt was healthy for his obviously fragile psyche. He squatted down and laid one hand on the rock which served as an unmarked headstone.

"It ain't fair," he finally uttered after thinking it so many times. "It ain't fair that she gets dealt a hand of cards like that, and it all ends so painfully, so early in her life. And now only a handful of us really know who she was."

"Life isn't fair, Khujand. You know that. And you need to remember that. The Horde doesn't need its finest getting so choked up so easily. You heard her story. You came to see her one last time. It's time to move on."

"I will...I will...I just wish more people had come out. It shoulda been..."

He flinched as he felt the quick wrap of knuckles kiss the side of his skull, letting out a snarl as he stood back up. Did she just hit him?

"You stop that right now, Khujand," her scolding tone greeting him after a short vacation. "You are a soldier, a Shadow Hunter. You might be an irregular soldier, independent of any central command, but that makes it even *more* important that you stop this blubbering around."

His irritation disappeared when she stood her ground, not moving back an inch when the oversized jungle troll shot her a death gaze. She knew what she was saying was right and something he needed to hear.

"This is a warzone, and people will die. You already told me about how many in your ranks died in Tanaan, and it wasn't the first time in your life. You can't be so affected whenever somebody dies, not like townies can. Azeroth needs you here to be strong, to move on, to do what you do best and ignore the hurt and the ugliness of this world. You feel bad, alright, but you move on. All you can do is remember the reason you're here, the one's who will be saved, and when it's over you can remember the ones who were lost. You remember Jarinta as a girl who didn't sulk in her room in the evenings feeling sorry for herself, you pray for her and maybe even tell people her story when the calm returns to the world again, but you need to move on. It's time to let go for now." She had spoken far more than she wanted to, but she had to make sure it got into his thick skull.

A sigh of defeat escaped his lips. Before he left, he leaned down and snatched a string armlet with some wooden beads strung around it. It was stretchy enough to fit around his wrist. He would move on, but when that calm did return he wanted at least something to remember her by, something to prevent her from being forgotten. She deserved at least that.

The two turned and walked, Ushka having had enough funerals for one day. A light wind picked up particles of snow and dust as it blew, burying the headstone underneath a white carpet. They began to disappear over the horizon as they returned to Thunder Pass, Ushka swatting Khujand's hand as he attempted to wrap it around her shoulder. He let it dangle at his side, the memento secured around his wrist. He could move on while still remembering the girl who made the best with what she had. And he wouldn't forget her. None of them would.

**A/N: Due to questions raised in numerous PMs regarding Jarinta's fate, I will make a confession - from the time I envisioned the story, her death was part of the plan. A dear friend of mine suffered and died from a similar set of conditions. Don't fret, though; most characters in my stories (like the people at the tavern or in the streets) have no names, which means they're in the background. Those with names are meant to appear again, even if just a cameo or a oneshot. Though Jarinta passed away in the year 31 according to the Warcraft timeline, she will appear in oneshots and elsewhere in future stories. She was a great character who deserves it, and many of the others here will appear again as well.**


End file.
